The Chronicles of Septimus
by Spartan Zero
Summary: 2547: The Office of Naval Intelligence publicly released information regarding the Spartan II project. However, deep in the shadows of ONI, another file may never see the light of day.
1. Prologue: Dust and Echoes

**Disclaimer: **Halo is owned by Microsoft and Bungie. Because this is a fan fiction site I will not continue to put these disclaimers for future chapters. The nature of fan fiction is that it is written by the fans, for the fans. In addition, the fact that this is posted on a site that only accepts fan fiction is enough to show that this is in fact fan fiction.

* * *

_**Prologue: Dust and Echoes**_

**1548 Hours, May 25 2542 (Military Calendar) / Location Unknown**

As the planet was slowly dieing a lonely witness leaned back against iridescent purple alloy. The world's final moments played out in his ears. Screams, cries for mercy, cursing, vows of vengeance. He had heard it all before, but he recorded it still. A final epitaph for the inhabitants below.

As the hours passed by, the only accompaniment for the voices were the rhythmic vibrations coursing through the ship's hull. The voices faded one by one until all that remained was the rumble; continuing on until it too faded away to the cold empty silence of space.

The observer tapped a few commands into the small portable tablet in his lap and a small hologram of the planet sprang to life. All that remained were blotches of angry red and empty black. A shattered moon orbited in the distance while a dull glare obscured the light on the far edge of the horizon. Glass.

A few more taps and the hologram disappeared. There was a brief burst of static before being replaced by voices.

"Ship Master, what are your orders?" There was a brief pause.

"Relay coordinates to the rest of the fleet and bring the ship about for transition."

The observer planted a hand to secure himself as the ship began to turn while continuing to monitor the conversation from the bridge.

"Run a scan of the system for life signatures."

"Yes, Ship Master. All scans read negative. No life signatures detected other than our fleet."

The observer slumped.

"What of the Oracle?"

"All Reclamations destroyed during bombardment, Ship Master."

"It is a pity that such a world must be burned and the Reclamations destroyed with it, but it cannot be helped. Such treasures must be sacrificed for the greater cause."

"Ship Master, engines are prepared for transition. Awaiting your command."

The witness returned to the image of the planet, but this time it was full of green and blue. White clouds swirled about. He stared at the picture with a broken smile. Another world worth saving. The image faded and was replaced with a burned out shell of its former self. Another world he had failed. He let the tablet fall away and it dimmed.

"We are finished here. Initiate transition."


	2. 1 Genesis

_**Chapter 1: Genesis**_

**Personal Journal**

**Date:** June 24, 2504 (Military Calendar)

**Encryption Code:** Red

**Public Key:** NA

**Author(s):** Dr. Stephanos Ezekiel Malindron (civilian Identification Number: 25817-903-BWUA1588)

**Subject:** Project Genesis/Alpha Generation Results

**Classification:** Restricted (BGX Directive)

/start file/

After many years of research, both original from our own lab and taken from studies conducted sporadically from the early twenty-first century to today, it pains me to say that the first batch of test subjects resulted in utter failure. After thorough examination and discussion with my colleagues, we have come to the conclusion that we tried to do to much too quickly with the Alpha generation. The details are in my attached notes, but it appears that the embryos were dividing so quickly that they used up all their available nutrients while not forming differentiated cells, like a cancer. Clearly we must review and refine the techniques pioneered in 2431. Somewhere we made a mistake, changed the wrong order of nucleic acids, or something of that nature. At least the good news is that the original embryo was stable and began to divide normally. With any luck the beta generation will be more successful.

/end file/

Press **ENTER** to open linked attachments.

* * *

**Personal Journal**

**Date:** October 29, 2507 (Military Calendar)

**Encryption Code:** Red

**Public Key:** NA

**Author(s):** Dr. Stephanos Ezekiel Malindron (civilian Identification Number: 25817-903-BWUA1588)

**Subject:** Project Genesis/Epsilon Generation Results

**Classification: **Restricted (BGX Directive)

/start file/

We are nearly there, I can feel it in my bones, and that's not the only thing I'm feeling these days. After our heartbreaking setbacks with the Gamma and Delta generations, the Colonel had been making personal visits to the facility. He seems to be getting more anxious every time I see him, like he needs us to hurry up. But what we're doing takes time. We're not doing a high school science project for goodness sake. But back to the topic. Today the fruits of our labor finally began to show! Out of nearly three thousand embryos, twenty-eight developed into fully functional fetuses and eleven of those reached six months before losing cell integrity and spontaneously aborting. Not only that, but all the embryos seemed to be supporting the modifications. If we continue at this pace, in another nine months we may be successful. Here's keeping my fingers crossed.

/end file/

Press **ENTER** to open linked attachments.

* * *

**Personal Journal**

**Date:** November 17, 2511 (Military Calendar)

**Encryption Code:** Red

**Public Key:** NA

**Author(s):** Dr. Stephanos Ezekiel Malindron (civilian Identification Number: 25817-903-BWUA1588)

**Subject:** Project Genesis/Zeta Generation Results

**Classification:** Restricted (BGX Directive)

/start file/

We've done it! By God we've done it! All our hard work has finally paid off. We had over one hundred subjects survive to eight months and nearly thirty made it to full gestation! The problem with earlier generations was that the artificial wombs were just that, artificial. They were only tubes of metal and plastic instead of real living tissue. Once we flashed cloned real human uteri and other organs to simulate the actual conditions of human reproduction, everything worked perfectly. We had two successful births! It just goes to show you how in this age of advanced technology good ole nature has a way of surprising you. Unfortunately one of the babies did not make it through the night; it had a very low birth weight. But we cannot let this weaken our resolve! We have made many strides and I'm sure our work will continue renewed vigor. We must celebrate! Oh, there will be a huge party tonight. I just hope I can hold by booze...

/end file/

Press **ENTER** to open linked attachments.

* * *

**Personal Journal**

**Date:** November 18, 2511 (Military Calendar)

**Encryption Code:** Red

**Public Key:** NA

**Author(s):** Dr. Stephanos Ezekiel Malindron (civilian Identification Number: 25817-903-BWUA1588)

**Subject:** Project Genesis/Naming?

**Classification:** Restricted (BGX Directive)

/start file/

Oh, my head... I'm afraid I had far too much to drink last night. I hope I didn't make a fool of myself or do anything rash. I can't really remember. But I couldn't help it, Emerson challenged me to a drinking contest and he wouldn't accept no for an answer. Anyway, my head hurts so I'll make this quick. Everyone in the lab is already trying to come up with a name for our new little guy. Well, he has a designator Z-298, but I seriously can't believe that we never took the time to come up with a proper name to call him. Many think that we should go back to our scientific roots and use a Latin name. Some of the staff thinks we should call him Primus, which means "the first" or "first born", since he is the first survivor of our project. But I think that he should have a name that reflects and respects the sacrifices that came before him. Something to do with seven?

/end file/

* * *

**0745 Hours, August 14, 2516 (Military Calendar) / Sol System, Earth**

The shrill beeping of an alarm clock cut through the darkness. A small hand reached over and slapped the snooze button. A few seconds later there was a groan and the young boy rolled out of the bed onto the cool linoleum floor and switched off the clock. He made his way over to the light switch and flipped it, squinting as he was momentarily blinded by the harsh halogen light. He folded the bedsheets neatly so as not to leave any creases and pulled on a pair of gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt and then quickly slipped on some socks and laced up his combat boots. Before opening the room's single door he took a quick look around the room to make sure nothing was out of place. At the desk the books were arranged on their shelf, the computer was turned off, the bed was made, and the dresser was in proper order with his clothes inside. There was nothing else in the room. He grabbed a small black pouch off a hook on the wall, switched off the light, and shut the door on his way out.

As the boy walked down the hall he saw men and women in either white lab coats or military uniforms walking past, but they paid him little attention and continued about their business. He turned a corner and made his way down a few doors before coming to a stop before a large door with **B04** printed on the front. He keyed the access code on the panel by the door and it quickly slid open with a small hiss.

He strolled through rows of empty bunks to the restroom in the rear, more commonly referred to as "the head." He flipped a seat up and soon heavy splashing echoed off the walls as the boy relieved himself. When he got to the sink he unzipped his pouch, pulled out his toothbrush, and smeared some toothpaste on it. As he brushed he looked at himself in the mirror. He had pale white skin from lack of sun exposure, and his brown hair was getting a little long, almost out of regulations. They would make him get it buzzed again soon. Blue eyes stared back in the reflection. He thought blue might be his favorite color. He finished brushing and splashed some water on his face.

When he got back to his room the clock read 0755. He hung the pouch and headed back into the winding mess of hallways. A few minutes later he found himself in the front of another large door labeled **L01**. After entering the code he walked in.

Across the long room an old man with crazy white hair looked up from a microscope. "Ah, good morning, Septimus." The doctor checked his watch as the boy walked over. "You're right on time. Alright, lets get this over with so you can go get some breakfast." The same thing he had said a hundred thousand times...

Septimus obeyed and sat down on an examining table. As the doctor sifted through a disorganized pile of paperwork on his desk the boy pulled off his shirt. He noticed that the doctor did not have his name tag attached to his lab coat pocket. Instead there was a sticker in its place. In blue block letters it said **HELLO, MY NAME IS**. Below in black ink was a poorly written _Dr. Malindron_. The boy rolled his eyes.

The doctor came over with a clipboard full of charts and pulled out a stethoscope. Septimus flinched slightly as the icy cold instrument touched his skin to listen to his heart. Next the doctor tested his blood pressure, temperature, eye dilation, and other myriad examinations to see if the boy was in top condition. Lastly he took a small blood sample and set the vial to the side.

"Well, that's about it. You'd better hurry on down to the mess hall before they close up." The doctor patted him on the shoulder as he pulled his shirt back on. "And be sure to give my regards to Beatrice when you get there. I'll see you later tonight."

Septimus nodded and gave a small wave as he left the lab, spying the clock on the wall on his way out. It was only 0900. The mess hall was not near closing, it was all just a part of Malindron's routine. The same thing every day. He shook his head and sighed.

As he walked through the hallways the boy smiled inwardly. It would not be much longer now.

When he got to the mess he stepped in line with all the other occupants of the facility. There was a mix of military personnel and scientists with a few civilian contractors mixed in. As he came closer to the serving station he spied Beatrice loading people's trays with eggs and bacon. She was one of the cooks and the closest thing that Septimus had to a friend. They ate together sometimes and joked about how annoying Dr. Malindron was, but at the age of forty-six she was simply to old to really connect with the young boy. She liked to remark about how mature he was for such a kid and was amazed at how smart he was, but as a cook, she knew nothing of the reasons behind his unusually high intelligence and background, not that he could explain it himself. Septimus just assumed that she was a nice lady who did not have many friends around the base and needed someone to talk to. She helped to mix things up a bit.

He waved and she gave him a wink.

"How'ya doin Sep'?" she asked with a slight twang.

"I'm ok," Septimus replied. "Just going through the usual. Dr. Malindron says hey."

Beatrice rolled her eyes as she plopped a huge helping of eggs onto his tray. "When is that ole dog gonna get a clue? He's gotta be at least twenty years older'n me."

Septimus ignored her remarks and pressed the issue on his mind before he got to much farther down the line. "Are you coming to my birthday party?"

Her face lit up. "Course I am honey! And I'm gonna have the best birthday present of all!" She twirled her spatula like a baton and pointed it at Septimus with a devilish grin on her face. "I guarantee it."

* * *

**2200 Hours, August 14, 2516 (Military Calendar) / Sol System, Earth**

Septimus collapsed on the bed. Just as at the end of every day he was dead tired. After breakfast he reported to his physical education instructors and they had run him into the ground. Then lunch and off to study with his AI instructors. After that he had more intelligence and physical tests to perform before finally being turned loose for dinner and private study in his room. Every day he went through the same routine. He knew he was a part of some important research program, but he did not know why or what it was for.

Whatever the answer, Septimus wanted out. He could not take any more of the monotony, any more of every second of every day being planned. He had to get out. He had to get away. Somehow.

And now that somehow was within reach. In a few short months he would be out of this place and free. Free to wake up when he wanted to, free to eat when he wanted to, and free to just be free. He just had to bide his time and hope his plan worked. If it did, he would be long gone before anyone even noticed. If it failed, well, it would just have to not fail. He did not think he could last any longer.

His eyelids began to droop and finally exhaustion blocked out his crowded thoughts.

* * *

**2258 Hours, August 14, 2516 (Military Calendar) / Sol System, Earth**

The room was dark save the small lamp on the desk.

Dr. Malindron took a small sip of water from the glass beside the lamp and straightened out the folders and papers he had laid out for the tenth time. His palms were sweaty and his hands were visibly shaking.

He hated these meetings. The man on the other side of the communication line terrified him. Over the years he had heard horrible stories of people disappearing and never being heard from again. He hoped he could avoid becoming one of those people. He had done everything he was asked and more had he not? Miracles had been performed under his watchful eye had they not? Dr. Malindron knew he was to important to simply "disappear." But he was still scared nearly out of his wits by this one man.

Dr. Malindron checked his watch. Just as the seconds ticked off to 2300 the holo-panel a few feet away on the other side of the room warmed up and began to emit soft light. Another desk and a shadowy figure behind it quickly materialized. !-- page size: 8.5in 11in; margin: 0.79in P margin-bottom: 0.08in Off to the side a pair blue eyes glowed from the dark, but the doctor could not see anything more of the owner. !-- page size: 8.5in 11in; margin: 0.79in P margin-bottom: 0.0

Dr. Malindron gulped and sat up straighter in his chair. "G-Good evening, Colonel." He smiled weakly.

The seated figure grunted. "Cut the pleasantries doctor. I'm a busy man and I don't have a lot of time. I'll be there in November for a full report. In the meantime keep your answers brief and to the point. Got it?"

"Y-Yes sir," Dr. Malindron stammered.

"Good. Now, how is his intelligence?"

"Well, he's pretty smart, but it's not like he's a genius or something. He learns quickly and catches on pretty fast. He doesn't just see something and knows what it is or how it works instantly, but once it's explained to him he learns it and can figure it out after that."

"Good. How far has he progressed in the standard schooling curriculum?"

"He's been absorbing information like a sponge so we keep accelerating the curriculum, but so far he has advanced about as far as the seventh grade."

"Excellent. What about his musculature? How big is he? How fast is he? Give me a quick rundown."

"Yes, sir." Dr. Malindron quickly rifled through some pages until he found the one he wanted. "It'd take too long to read off all these statistics so I'll just show you." He held the paper out over the table. The paper was trembling slightly. As he watched the hologram he could have swore the man cracked a sinister grin, but whatever it was vanished instantly.

"Good work, doctor. Now, last question. What is his predisposition?"

"Sir?" Dr. Malindron had no idea what the man was talking about.

"Is he _malleable_?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean, sir."

The man chuckled, the sound unnerving the doctor. This time a sinister smirk was clearly visible from the hologram. "No, I suppose you wouldn't know. That'll be all Malindron. See you in November. Don't disappoint."

* * *

_Well, that's the end of Ch. 1. Hope you enjoyed it. A few notes here for clarification. I have been working sporadically on this story since a little before Halo 2 came out. You might say that's a long time and I agree. School is the major factor for distraction. Many of the things that come up may seem as though they were taken straight from the games and books and were copied. Some were and some were not. I'll let you know when those things pop up. Whether you believe that they were copied or whether I came up with them before they were showed in game or book is up to you. Later, if there are questions for clarification of some issues I can put up explanations at the end of the next chapter or simply on my personal page. Whatever works for you guys._

_Character development was completed very early in the story making process but the entire plot was not somewhat finalized until a few months ago after the release of Halo 3. I have a pretty long outline. Oh, one last thing. Updates may be sporadic. I just thought I would put that warning out there so people are not wondering where I am for a long time or something. Here's hoping all goes well and I'll see you guys later.  
_


	3. 2 Exodus

_**Chapter 2: Exodus**_

**0800 Hours, November 17, 2516 (Military Calendar) / Sol System, Earth**

"Show me the boy."

"Y-yes, sir."

The double doors slid open with a hiss and the two men walked into the laboratory. The larger man, clad in a green dress uniform, looked around unimpressed at the clutter of papers and equipment. He followed the older doctor in the white lab coat to the back of the room and to another set of double doors. Another hiss and before them was a single examination table with a small boy with brown hair and blue eyes wearing only a pair of boxers.

The boy instantly recognized the insignia for Colonel on the larger man's uniform, hopped down from the table, and popped off a crisp salute. The man was momentarily surprised but loosely returned the salute and let a smirk spread across his face. This was going to be to easy.

"This is the one, Malindron?"

"Yes, sir. His name is Septimus," the doctor replied. He took a step back to let the Colonel have his own space with the boy.

The Colonel extended his hand and smiled. "Pleased to meet you, Septimus."

As Septimus shook the man's hand he looked straight into his eyes. There was something there that he could not quite put his finger on. Regardless, he already did not like this man. "Good to meet you too, Colonel."

"Looks like someone's been doing something right around here." The Colonel threw a sidelong glance at Dr. Malindron who visibly paled. He looked back at Septimus. "Alright, son. Stand up straight and let me get a good look at you."

Septimus obeyed as the Colonel circled around him taking in every detail of his form. The man had to admit that he was impressed. The boy was a little on the small side, but he had to take into account that he was only five years old. He would undoubtedly get much bigger as he aged. The man was also impressed at the fact that the boy did not seem to have an ounce of body fat on him. He was not bulky but very trim and athletic looking. That could be adjusted in subsequent generations.

"You know what you're here for son?" the Colonel asked.

Septimus spoke up in a confident and authoritative repetition of what was drilled into him day in and day out. "Yes, sir. To defend Earth and all her colonies. To fight to the last man and give my life if necessary. I am a soldier in the United Nations Space Command and am expected to perform my duty, sir!" He did not believe a word of it.

The Colonel looked at the boy again and let the his smirk show plainly. It was too perfect. This boy was already his puppet, ready to be molded in any way he saw fit. He knelt in front of Septimus and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Good, son. That's real good. We're gonna need you soon. And we're gonna need a whole lot more just like you." His eyes flitted towards Dr. Malindron before returning to Septimus. "I'm sure you'll do us proud."

As Septimus watched the two men leave he knew that he did not want to run into the military man again. It was not just the way Dr. Malindron had seemed scared to death in his presence, Septimus could just feel that the man was trouble waiting to happen.

As the door hissed shut he grabbed his clothes off the table and began to pull them back on.

The Colonel led Dr. Malindron into the lab and began to run off the points he wanted to make to the doctor. "He's a little smaller than I expected. Make the next ones bigger. And," the Colonel turned and looked Dr. Malindron in the eye, "I want mass production to begin immediately."

Dr. Malindron stepped back in shock. "B-but, sir, we're not prepared to go to that level just yet. We're still trying to determine all the effects of the modifications. It will take more time until we can perfect the process so that we can get consistent enough to not waste resources." The Colonel was visibly becoming agitated. "We-"

With surprising speed and strength the Colonel snatched the doctor by the front of his coat and pulled him in close. "I don't care what it takes, Malindron. Use the same template from the boy if you have to. It worked the first time, it should work again. We don't have time for any more delays. In case you haven't noticed the situation in the Outer Colonies is getting worse. We need soldiers. Soldiers that are better in every way than the ones we have now; soldiers that will obey without question. Soldiers that will _die_ without question. Rebels are popping up everywhere and these mass produced soldiers will be our answer. I don't want excuses, I want results."

Dr. Malindron gulped heavily and put his hands up pleadingly. "We could ... uh... use Septimus' genetic code and see if we could make a few modifications and see how that works. B-but I really don't know how we can begin mass production just yet. We don't exactly know why Septimus lived and all the other ones died. The human genome is so complicated that we don't know if we got it right or not. It could have been a fluke"

The Colonel's face showed that he was less than satisfied. "Get it done, Malindron, or maybe I'll have to find someone else with less... _reservations._" Dr. Malindron could see an evil glint in the man's eye.

The door from the other room opened and Septimus walked out. The Colonel released Dr. Malindron and pretended to straighten his coat. "I'll see you later tonight, Malindron." He turned and left a terrified Dr. Malindron and leaning on a workstation and Septimus with a wary look in his eye.

* * *

After greeting several other subordinates of the Colonel and being asked a million other questions, Septimus found himself in the cafeteria. It seemed as if the whole base was there for the celebrations. Everyone wore their dress uniforms and even Septimus had a small black suit tailored for his size. After a lavish dinner of fresh salmon and other assorted seafood dishes, there was a series of awards and accolades presented on a large stage that had been set up in the corner.

Not everyone really knew what all the celebrations were about, but it was a good excuse to get some above average dining and take the night off from their duties. Free drinks at the bar were the major attraction for many of the attendees. Several Army soldiers had challenged a few Marines to a drinking contest. What had started as a friendly game had turned into an all out drinking war. The bar was crowded by men and women from both branches of the service cheering each other on and rough housing. Several officers were standing near the fringes of the crowd to make sure order was kept.

Septimus sat alone at a table near the stage fumbling with a napkin. He had been sitting with Dr. Malindron and the Army Colonel, along with several other military figures from around the base, but they had all gone off to talk to other people and had left Septimus to entertain himself. He was glad they were finally just gone. It gave him a little peace and quiet to relax after their never ending interrogation. The quiet was only figurative though, the band on stage was less than ten feet away.

He let himself be distracted by the music. The lyrics were not that interesting so he just listened to the beat and tapped his foot along with it. He was beginning to get impatient. He glanced at the clock on the far side of the room. At the distance he could barely make out the hands. It looked like 8:45, or maybe 9:40. Telling the difference in the hand lengths was impossible. He prayed it was the latter so the party would be over faster.

"Hey, Sep'!" He barely heard Beatrice yell over the music. He looked up and saw her nudge her way through the crowd and tables. She was carrying a tray full of ice cream bowls and plates of cake. Septimus gave her a broad smile when she got to his table.

"Hey, Beatrice. Have all these new guys been treating you alright?"

She smiled back and moved her eyes like she was scanning the area. Her smile turned into a smirk. "Yeah. They been treat'n me okay. Few of 'em gave me a wink. This one drunk bastard even tried ta feel me up! Gave him a bit of ole Bessy to set him straight though." She fished around in the large pocket of her cooking apron and showed him her spatula. "Anyway, I brought ya' my birthday present. I made it just for you. Be sure ta eat th' whole thing cause that's where the treat is." She winked as she set a plate down from her tray. It was a piece of cake smeared with blue icing and ice cream.

Septimus smiled. "Thanks, Beatrice." He leaned in to give her a hug and slipped the napkin into her pocket.

"Your welcome honey. See ya around." Beatrice gave the boy a final squeeze with her free arm and turned to leave.

Septimus watched her go before he dug into what would probably be his last cake and ice cream for a very long time.

When Beatrice was safely alone in the kitchen she reached in and pulled out the napkin. She unfolded it carefully and red the scrawled message.

_Dear Beatrice,_

_I can't thank you enough for all you've done for me. The most important was that you were my friend. I'll never forget you._

_-Septimus_

She silently wished luck to the little guy.

* * *

**0200 Hours, November 18, 2516 (Military Calendar) / Sol System, Earth**

A guard crunched through the snow as Septimus sank as far into the shadow of the tree as he could. He shivered, it was much colder than he had expected. His face was already numb and his nose was starting to run. At least he had planned far enough ahead to bring his heavy parka. Luckily, his chosen attire all matched the pure whiteness of the snow. A great camouflage at a distance. If anyone was paying careful attention at close range though, it probably would not work. Darkness and heavy snowfall helped reduce visibility even further.

He relaxed as the guard rounded the side of the building and slid a piece of paper out of the plastic bag from his jacket pocket. He unfolded it and reread the first line. _"Transport arrives at 0245 hrs, Good Luck"_ He could only hope that the note was correct. He slid his sleeve back and checked his digital watch. Only forty-five more minutes.

As he breathing slowed down he remembered the arduous escape through the base. After the party he had hurried to his room to change clothes. He only had a few minutes during the guards' shift change to get all the way from the ventilation shaft in his room to the one just outside the ground floor elevator. After a close call with said elevator and four levels of heavy climbing later he had only just managed to duck through an exposed hallway before disappearing back into the ventilation system. Any slower and he would have been spotted. After another hour of crawling and wedge climbing up cramped vent shafts and he had emerged on the roof of the building and managed to jump into a heavy snow drift before being seen. Good thing the highest level of the base was only a single story.

He could only think of one reason that the whole scheme had worked so far. Whoever had designed the base did not expect someone his size to be trying to get in, much less get out. It was a tight squeeze, and no one much bigger than Septimus would have been able to fit through the vents.

Now, after having crawled excruciatingly slowly through the snow to the edge of the perimeter fence, he was hiding behind one of the few trees that had managed to grow in the desolate wasteland.

He slid the paper back into his pocket and stole a look at the main gate. The majority of the outer wall was fifteen feet of instacrete with barbed wire ringing the top, while the gate itself was a mix of titanium alloy bars and barbed wire that raised up from a trench in the ground. Sentry houses were posted on either side. He could just make out the shadowy silhouettes of four guards, not to mention the other guards roaming around the grounds.

His tree was just a little over a hundred meters from the gate. If he was careful he could make it in time. Out in the open he would be fully exposed, but it was the fastest route to the gate. He adjusted the hood of his parka and pulled up his ski mask. Ever so slowly he leaned forward and inched out of the shadow, making sure to keep his face low and out of site.

Twenty minutes later he was just over half way to the gate. He was doing his best to keep his ragged breaths quiet, but the thick snow was making it difficult to move. His toes and fingers had long since lost feeling and he had to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. Slowly he raised his head so his eyes were just above the snow. The guards were talking amongst themselves while sharing a bottle of alcohol. Undoubtedly leftovers from the party.

**Crunch**

He froze. Something to his left.

**Crunch**

Footsteps! How could he have missed a guard that was so close? Impossible! He should have heard him way before he had gotten this close.

**Crunch**

The footsteps were less than a foot away now. Septimus thought he could smell liquor on the man's breath.

**Crunch!**

Septimus gritted his teeth and closed his eyes as the heavy man stepped on his left hand. Frozen as his fingers were he could still feel the entire weight pressing down on them. The man pivoted on his foot and Septimus could have sworn he heard something snap. It took everything in his power not to scream and grab at his hand. The pain was unbearable. It seemed like an eternity before the man finally stepped off and moved on.

When he was sure the man was long gone Septimus slowly brought his head back up and looked to the left. The footprints began only a few feet away. The man had been standing there for a long time, that's why he had not heard him; and he had not seen him because he had his face practically in the snow. He cursed inwardly. Bad luck.

Ever so carefully he tried to squeeze his injured hand, but he had to bite his lip to keep from yelling as fresh waves of pain jolted him. He wiped away the snow piled up on his injured hand and saw that his middle finger angled awkwardly from his knuckle. Dislocated.

He steeled himself as best he could. The cold was already beginning to dull the pain, but this was still going to hurt like hell. He grabbed the gloved finger and quickly twisted it back in place. This time he could not stifle a quiet groan as a thousand invisible knives tried to cut his finger off.

As best he could while still biting his lip he pulled back his sleeve again to check his watch, being mindful to keep it covered so as to prevent the glass from catching the light and giving away his position.

0228. He still had time, but it was going to be close. He looked ahead to make sure that no other guards would be blocking or even remotely near his path. Thankfully there was a clear shot to the gate. He gave a sigh of relief and began to crawl once again.

After a long bout of uneventful crawling he found himself nestled up to the wall of one of the guardhouses beside the gate. Around the corner the soldiers were still carrying on and sharing their latest batch of whiskey. Apparently they had been giving a lively play by play of the drinking contest from the party.

"Henderson, listen, I know you're bummed because us Marines kicked your Army asses tonight, but don't take it too hard. What you just need to realize is that," the man paused and let out a loud belch. "What you need to realize is that a marine is just a whole other kind of man than you army turds. We're the best of the best and there's a reason for that. We can hold our booze better than anyone."

Another man sounded offended. Septimus guessed it was Henderson. "Hey! Are you making fun of the Army?"

"Yes."

"Pffft hahahahaha!" Henderson started bawling and soon the others were all laughing along with him. In between gasps for air and guffawing Henderson managed to sputter, "The fuck're you talking about man?" He broke down into hysterical laughter again. "I'm not even in the Army! I'm a Marine just like you!" This revelation brought about a new round of hysterics from all the men who were soon holding their knees in laughter.

When the laughter had died down a bit the first man spoke up again. "I don't know man I guess it's just been so long since I had a decent drink in this shit hole that I wasn't ready."

Another man giggled. "Hold your booze better than anyone..." The men could not contain it any longer and burst out into fits again.

Septimus could not help but crack a smile at the guards antics, but he quickly refocused as he heard the loud rumbling of an approaching engine.

"Oh, shit! There's the truck! Hide the booze, quick!"

There was shuffling and shouting as the guards tried to straighten themselves up and prepare for the truck's arrival. As the rumbling grew louder Septimus inched to the corner of the guard post. The guards were now walking out the outer doors of the post. When the truck stopped in front of the gate one of the guards stepped up to the window and began talking to the driver as the other guards inspected the truck. Two of them handled long poles with mirrors and small flashlights attached to the end to check the underside of the truck and trailer while the last guard lead a dog around to sniff for anything suspicious.

A few minutes later the truck was allowed to pass and the guards resumed their duties by the gate. Septimus noticed that the guards had brought their bottles out again and had put the dog back in the sentry station. He crawled around the edge and slid himself along the wall. Even thought the soldiers were horsing around again he did not pay any attention to them other than make sure they did not notice he was there. Millimeter by millimeter he got closer to the gate. His movements were so slow as to be nearly imperceptible. There was no need to be in too much of a hurry and get caught. It would take time to unload and reload the truck at the station.

Seconds became minutes. Minutes became dozens of minutes. He lost track of how much time had passed, but he did not dare try to check his watch. At this range detection would be inevitable. He just kept moving. Steady, one arm in front of the other. Slowly but surely he was reaching his destination

When got to where the sentry house met the gate he turned the corner. So far so good. All he had to do was make it to the center of the gate.

Suddenly the sound of the truck's engine reached his ears. It was already finished at the loading dock and was returning to the gate. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the guards turn their attention back to the truck, so he took advantage of the distraction and quickened his pace.

Now that he was at the center of the gate he made one final turn and began heading to back towards the guards. Just over the snow-line he could make out the headlights of the truck approaching. The four shadowy figures moved out of the way as the truck pulled up to the gate.

While the guards were focused on the truck he scooted faster in their direction. The truck was headed straight for him. Fifty meters. Septimus kept crawling; he had to get farther from the gate. Twenty meters. The headlights were blinding now. He kept moving. Ten meters, five, one!

Septimus hugged the ground as the plow on the front of the truck literally ran over him and slowed to a stop in front of the gate. The loud hiss of the truck's air brakes drowned out the noise as he let out a breath he had not realized he was holding.

He popped his head up and quickly surveyed his surroundings. He was under the trailer while the guards were busy with the cabin and working the gate controls.

With little time remaining he jumped to his feet, coming to a quick realization that he need not have worried about being hit by the bottom of the truck earlier. The undercarriage was far off the ground to help protect it from tall snow piles, leaving him plenty of room to stand all the way up.

Pushing the distraction aside he reached underneath the bottom of his jacket and pulled out a climbing clamp with a heavy cable attached. He hooked the rig to one of the cross beams underneath the trailer and then hauled himself up. He wedged himself in just as the rumble of the truck grew louder as the driver shifted into first.

There was a sudden lurch as the truck accelerated and then he was out the gate and in the open. He could feel the wind whipping his face and the occasional blast of snow coming from the tires. He leaned precariously over the edge of the lip and caught an inverted glimpse of the quickly receding base. Soon it was enveloped in darkness; the last time he would ever see that place.

When the base was out of view he pulled himself back up and cinched the safety harness as tight as he could. His watch glowed green as he pressed the light button. 0337 hours. He did some quick calculations in his head. It would be nearly six hours from now before someone noticed that something was wrong, another hour while they realized he was missing and locked down the entire base to search for him, and then another hour after that before they put out word to the outside to find him. He figured he should be long gone by that point.

A wash of snow hit him. He sputtered and wiped his eyes. In the pitch black he could not see anything, but the wind was roaring in his ears and freezing his face. It was cold, but not as much as the snow had been. Flicking away the refrozen ice from his face Septimus pulled his jacket tighter and wiggled into as comfortable a position as he could manage. It was going to be a long night.

The ice trucker rumbled into the distance.

* * *

_Chapter 2 is now completed. I hope you understand what is going on so far, even if you don't yet fully understand the circumstances. Don't worry, things will be revealed in time._

_Please feel free to review. I'd like to know what you guys think or any questions you may have. Until next time..._


	4. 3 Warning: Hichhikers May Be Escaping Co

_**Warning: Hitchhikers May Be Escaping Convicts**_

**United Earth Government Priority Transmission 92371B-24**

**Date:** August 31, 2513 (Military Calendar)

**Encryption Code:** Red

**Public Key:** NA

**From:** Survey Team NWA

**To:** UEG/ SE, SM, SHR

**Subject:** Results/ Survey of Northwest Americas

**Classification:** Restricted (BGX Directive)

/start file/

For the review of the United Earth Government (UEG) Subcommittee of the Environment (SE), Subcommittee of Materials (SM), and Subcommittee of Human Resources (SHR).

As per request, survey of the Northwest region of North America has been completed. Results confirm: equipment and scrap remain from oil drilling in the Alaska National Wildlife Refuge (ANWR) performed in the late twenty-first century; thousands of miles of pipeline remain from transporting said oil overland from Alaska through the former nation of Canada to the former United States of America; large cities in the Northwest have been mostly abandoned as temperatures have dropped back to late nineteenth century levels proportional to the reduction of greenhouse gases by the use of alternative fuel sources from the twenty-second century on and the advent of convenient space travel and colonization outside the solar system; large open plains used for agriculture during the incident of global warming have also been abandoned due to a return of colder temperatures.

Conclusions: Significant material remains for repurposing and recycling. Transportation network already in place in form of maglev train system. Said trains can be adapted for heavy loads with little impact on speed. Costs for upgrades are minimal. Footprint will be contained in already specified zones and will diminish as progress is made. Plains areas fit for reforestation and subsequent timber harvesting. Manpower required for all endeavors will be substantial.

For estimated tonnages and acreages please see attached notes.

/end file/

Press **ENTER** to open linked attachments.

* * *

**0649 Hours, November 18, 2516 (Military Calendar) / Sol System, Earth**

**Bump!**

His head bashed against the crossbar he was laying on.

"Mmm!" Septimus let out a muffled yell as his eyes shot open. He rubbed his head; or at least tried to rub his head before realizing that his arms would not move. He looked down. It was still dark, but the small running lights on the truck trailer allowed him to see a faint glint. His entire body was covered in ice! How in the world had this happened?

Suddenly a splash of slushy, wet snow kicked up from under one of the tires and landed on him. It suddenly occurred to him. That night, just after he left with the truck, he had been hit with some snow that had almost instantly frozen to his face before he flicked it off. He had not given it a second thought at the time, but the same thing must have happened over and over while he was asleep. Now the steady progress of several hours had left him encased in an icy shell.

At least his head was mostly free. There were flecks of ice scattered on his hood and he discovered that his mask was stuck to his mouth. The condensation from his breath had frozen it in place.

The bright side to this little situation was that the ice had effectively locked him in place on the trailer's crossbeams and was preventing him from falling. On the other hand, getting out might be a problem. That and the unbelievable cold.

As his brain finally began to kick into high gear the cold washed over him like a wave. This was completely different from being in the snow. Before, the temperature was low enough that even his body temperature would not melt the snow he was crawling on. It was more like moving through freezing cold sand or powder. He had at least been able to stay dry. Now though, the slush from the truck tires had soaked into his clothing, and in addition to being cold he was wet.

He vaguely remembered one of his instructors telling him something about that. In a cold environment it is okay to be cold, but never let yourself get wet. Septimus silently thanked that he had not already died of hypothermia in his sleep.

First, he tried moving his fingers, but he could not feel them at all. Maybe they were moving, maybe not. He rolled his eyes and tried his toes; same result. Frustrated, he decided to try somewhere he was sure would work: his mouth.

When he opened it all that happened was that his lips stretched out.

"Mm MmMmm!" He growled, gathered up as much saliva as he could, and then forced it against the seal on his mouth. Gradually the ice melted and he was able to open his mouth.

"Finally!" He thought about trying to free his lips from the mask, but decided it probably would not work. Since the mask was pressing against his face, any saliva he used to melt the ice would only refreeze, and he would be in the same position all over again.

Now, to figure out how to get the rest of his frozen body free...

**Bump!**

Stars burst in front of Septimus' eyes as his head smacked the crossbar again.

"ARGH! Seriously! Ooow!" The stars faded and he was once again shrouded in darkness. He took another look down at his body. There was something different, but he could not quite tell what it was because the running lights were not very bright. He leaned his head down as far as he could. There seemed to be a line where the reflections of the ice did not quite match up.

"A crack? Alright! It must have come from the bump." He wiggled his shoulders and the line grew longer. "C'mon, just a little more..." The crack steadily grew wider as he began throwing his weight back and forth within the loosening shell. With an earsplitting snap the ice around his chest and arms fell away into the snow below.

Septimus gave a small cheer of approval, but it did not last long. His arms were still totally numb and they flopped around uselessly. It was as if they had fallen asleep when he laid on them for too long in the bed.

He willed his still working shoulders to move and shakily brought his arms up before letting them flop back down on his chest. He did not feel anything. He did it again. Still nothing. Again. Finally, some sort of feedback reached his brain. It was almost like the brush of a feather; just barely there.

He moved his fingers slowly at first. They were not fully responding yet, but at least he could almost feel them now. He shook his arms as hard as he could and slapped them against his chest. Gradually all his nerves awoke from hibernation until they were throbbing. His left hand felt especially weak, and it was painful to make a fist. He was still stiff, and the pain did not feel pleasant, but it at least let him know that his arms were okay.

"Now for my legs." He reached into one of his coat pockets and pulled out a small knife. With a flick of his wrist the blade flipped around into position. It was only about four inches long; to small for a good weapon, but plenty big for hacking ice.

With one arm bracing against the bottom of the trailer he began cutting away at the ice with hard downward strikes. He managed to get his hips free when the truck suddenly hit another bump. This time, however, with his hand firmly planted in place, he prevented himself from causing any further injury to his head.

He breathed a sigh of relief and went back to work, being very careful not to accidentally stab himself in the dark. After another twenty minutes he finally had his legs and feet completely freed from their icy prison. He slipped the knife back into his pocket and started rubbing his lower body. After a few minutes he could move his toes and stretch his legs.

Satisfied that he was reasonably warmed up, Septimus decided to check the time. He rolled back his sleeve and hit the light button. It was –

**Bump!**

"Whoaaaaa!" The jolt completely picked Septimus up off the crossbars and threw him over the edge. In the blink of an eye he was falling into the snow below. He curled into a ball to protect himself but was suddenly snapped open with an exploding pain around his chest. His feet hit the ground sending him into an uncontrollable spin in midair.

He groaned and grabbed the cable of the climbing harness that had just saved his life. He tried to pull himself up, but his left hand would not squeeze correctly, leaving him dangling helplessly from the undercarriage of the trailer.

The slush from the tires that had mostly been passing harmlessly underneath his perch was now hitting him full force. He sputtered and flailed his arms to get the freezing stuff off his face. Not only was he getting hit with a lot more slush than before, but he was also much more exposed to the wind. He could feel the body heat being sucked out of him. At this rate he really would freeze to death. Only one option.

He pulled out his knife and began sawing at the safety line connecting him to the trailer. It was thick, but after a few seconds the fibers started splitting and the rope broke free. There was a moment of free fall before he hit the snow. His momentum caused him to keep rolling over and skid. With a roar the back end of the trailer passed harmlessly overhead and disappeared into the distance. He bounced a few more meters before finally crunching to a halt.

He lay in the snow for a minute to catch his breath. Already the cold was starting to seep into his jacket. Quickly, he stood up and surveyed his surroundings. In the direction the truck had gone he could see the faint glow of lights. It was the city. Unlucky as it was to have fallen from the truck, at least he was within walking distance of civilization.

The first thing he had to do was get his body temperature back up. He did some jumping jacks and started to jog towards the lights. After half a mile he slowed to a walk and decided to check his watch. 0721 hrs. If he walked fast he could still make it to town in time. He picked up the pace.

The only sounds that broke the eerie silence were his breathing and the crunch of the ankle deep snow under his boots. A few minutes later another sound joined in. A loud grumble escaped his stomach. He suddenly realized how hungry he was. He had not eaten since the party the night before.

When he pulled a protein bar and a small bottle of water from his jacket pocket he was disappointed to find them frozen solid. His teeth met rock hard chocolate when he tried to take a bite of the bar. Determined to have his food sooner or later, he stuffed the bar and bottle under his shirt to warm them up, yelping as the freezing objects touched his chest. Now all he had to do was keep walking and sooner or later his meal would thaw out.

* * *

Septimus checked his watch again. 0803 hrs. On the eastern horizon just the smallest touch of gray could be seen. Dawn was on the way.

He stuffed the empty wrapper back into his pocket and took a swig of partially melted ice water. Cold as it was, the water was very refreshing.

From another pocket, he retrieved the piece of paper. He read the second line. _Pioneer Station: L 203; __C 14 31 7; T 0925._

He nearly stumbled as he felt something solid beneath his feet. He returned the paper and looked down at a road. He traced its path and saw that it was headed directly for the city, the outskirts of which were now clearly visible.

Time was of the essence, so he started jogging again until he came to the first real house he had ever seen. He had seen pictures of them before, but never a real home. There was a small white picket fence surrounding the snow covered yard and a newly shoveled path of cobblestones leading from the fence's gate to the front porch. The house itself was painted white and only had one story. The windows were all shuttered, and the front door was closed. Just outside the fence was an ancient looking truck that was so rusted Septimus could not see any remains of paint on it.

He ran over and inspected the bed of the truck. It was filled with all manner of tools and spare parts. The owner must have been some sort of mechanic.

The door to the house opened, and a middle aged man wearing a blue set of coveralls and a crimson jacket walked out. Septimus ducked behind the truck and peeked around the back.

"I'll be back in later this afternoon, honey. I got to head into town and fix a few pipes that froze and busted in some apartment building on Broadway." It seemed that the man was heading further into the city. If Septimus could hitch a ride it would greatly reduce his travel time. The man blew a kiss inside and shut the door before heading in Septimus' direction.

While the man stepped into the truck, Septimus jumped in the bed with all the tools. It was not very comfortable, but a free ride was a free ride.

After a short but very rough trip, the truck began slowing to a stop. There was a little more light now, so Septimus quickly rolled over the side of the truck and then under to avoid detection as the man climbed out of the driver's side door. When the man had grabbed some tools from the rear of the truck and walked off, Septimus crawled from underneath the truck and took a quick look around.

He seemed to be in the middle of a residential district of the city. High rise apartment buildings towered on either side of a wide street. The strange thing was that the place looked nearly deserted. A few newer model cars passed and disappeared further into the city, but for the most part there was no traffic whatsoever. Septimus thought it very weird that such a large city had almost no people in it, but he pushed the thought from his mind and concentrated back on his mission.

He pulled out the paper again and flipped it over. There was a simple schematic showing the major roads going into and out of the city. Near the middle was a marker with _PS_ written next to it. That was his destination. He quickly sifted through the abundance of street names until he found Broadway Ave. It ran North to South, from one end of the city to the other, and came fairly close to the marker. The only problem was that he did not know where he was on the street.

As casually as he could he walked up to the nearest apartment building and checked the address number on the front door. Large block letters adorned the glass of the window. _Henderson Place 154_.

He returned to the sidewalk and confirmed from the street signs that he was indeed on _Broadway Ave_. where it intersected _45__th__ St._ To his annoyance, he found that most of the smaller roads were not marked on the map. Figuring that the address numbers would start small in the center of the city and grow larger as the roads radiated out, he guessed that he must be a few miles out from the center.

His watch read 0825 hrs. Not good. He began running towards _44__th__ St._ making sure to stay on the sidewalk. Traffic was sparse, but that was no excuse to risk being hit by a poor driver.

He passed several people, but was not overly worried about being discovered. He still had his hood up and his ski mask over most of his face. Some looked at him funny, but then went about their business. No sense getting worked up over some little kid playing around, especially this early in the morning, with it being so cold out and the sun not even up yet. At least, that was what Septimus hoped they were thinking. Unwanted attention could cause trouble.

Upon reaching number_ 125 _he bent over panting. His lungs were burning and his limbs felt like cement. It was now 0852 hrs. He had been running for nearly thirty minutes. Normally a half hour would not have been so bad, but the escape from the base, the truck ride, and already having run through the snow to the city after the abruptly exiting the trailer (_all_ while being in freezing cold weather), had nearly sapped all his strength. At this pace he would never make it on time. Septimus was getting desperate, so he knew he had to take a risk to speed things up.

Though traffic was low there were still cars going in both directions. It was now or never. He stepped out slightly into the street and began to walk backwards with his thumb in the air. As lame as the plan was, it was the best he could come up with at the spur of the moment.

Within a minute a bright yellow sedan flashed its lights as it drove by, and pulled over a little down the road. Septimus noticed that it had a small sign on the top reading _TAXI_. He was not sure what that meant, but he ran up to the passenger window as it rolled down. There was a gruff man at the wheel with a cigar sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

"Where ya goin?" the man asked.

"Pioneer Station. I need to get there fast."

The man's face twisted into a smirk and he winked. "No problem, kid. You got the credits, I got the ride. Jump in the back and buckle up."

As soon as the seatbelt clicked the driver slammed his foot on the gas, forcing Septimus back into the seat as the cab rocketed from the curb. He gripped the seat as tightly as possible while the car whipped in and out of traffic down Broadway. It was at this moment that Septimus praised the person who invented the basic safety harness. He was sure that without it, he would be getting bashed into a pulp as he was thrown around the inside of the car.

The man must have been insane. Septimus cringed as they nearly crashed head on into oncoming traffic while they were passing slower cars on the proper side of the street. His heart hammered in his chest and he just closed his eyes to avoid seeing their inevitable deaths.

With a bone wrenching jerk, the taxi came to a halt. "Pioneer station, kid. That'll be 23 credits."

Septimus cracked his eyes. The car was indeed stopped and he was not dead. Thank god.

Even though Septimus had always been provided with whatever he needed, he was still familiar with the exchange of currency, a.k.a. money, for services. He had occasionally bought some snacks at the base's commissary. He pulled some bills out of a pocket and payed the man over the seat.

The man's face light up. "Wow, kid! Actual paper money! I havn't seen that in years. Alright! Next time I go the liquor store I can pay with this and they can't trace my card."

Septimus left the man talking to himself and stepped shakily out of the car. That was the first and last time he would ever get in a car marked Taxi.

Before him was a terminal of sorts with _Pioneer Station_ adorning the front of the building. According to his watch it was only 0905 hours. Insane as the car ride had been, it had gotten him to his destination with time to spare.

His first few steps were a bit wobbly, but he was soon quickly making his way up a set of steps and through a large set of glass doors. The station seemed to be nearly empty. Directly in front was a young woman manning what appeared to be the check in desk. Further behind the desk he could see that the room branched off into two long corridors with people waiting intermittently for their trains to arrive.

He discreetly pulled down his hood and his ski mask so that his entire head was visible to the cameras placed along the ceiling. A critical part of his plan had just been set in motion. It would not take long before he was positively identified. No time to waste.

Septimus stepped up to the desk. "Excuse me, ma'am."

The woman looked up from her computer and gave him a warm smile. "May I help you young man?"

"Yes, ma'am. I need to find locker number 203. Could you point me in the right direction?"

"Sure." She pointed behind herself and to the right. "See that way over there? See how it has a two over the gateway? That's terminal two and any locker in the two hundreds will be that way. Need anything else?"

Septimus returned the woman' smile. "No, ma'am. Thanks." He walked off as the woman wished him a good day.

There was a security station just past the wall of lockers. He had to get through there before he could get to the proper gate. But first he located locker 203 and recalled the combination from memory. The dial spun, stopping on three different numbers. _14 31 7_. The lock popped and he opened the door.

Inside there was a black duffel back nearly as big as he was. Before hauling it out he unzipped a smaller side pocket and fished around. After a second he pulled out his prize: a one way ticket to Vancouver. Attached via paper clip was an ID card with a small picture of himself, informing that his name was Alexander Smith.

The next thing he pulled out was a small sandwich sized bag with a few computer components and a small slip of paper. He removed the paper and put all his findings in separate pockets. After zipping the duffel back up he proceeded to the security station. When it was his turn he placed the duffel on the roller wheels and pushed it through the scanner. After a signal from the security guard he walked through the metal detector. As soon as stepped across it screeched loudly causing him to jump.

He blushed, slightly embarrassed from having been startled as the guard rolled his eyes and signaled for him to come to the side.

The guard set a small tray down and told him to empty his pockets. A minute later the tray contained several pieces of paper, an empty water bottle, a protein bar wrapper, the plastic bag with computer parts, and most lastly, his knife. He mentally slapped himself. Of course the knife would be detected.

The man ran a portable metal detector around Septimus' body and, satisfied that the boy was clean, examined the contents of the tray. He raised an eyebrow. "Son, what are you doing with a knife?"

Luckily, Septimus had already come up with an alibi. "I had that with me while me and my grandpa were out hiking. I came up to visit him. He always says that you can't be too prepared for anything. So we always carry extra food, and extra climbing gear, and-"

"Okay, son, okay. I get it," the man interrupted. "Look, that's fine. I'm sure you and grandpa had a great time, but you're not allowed to carry that on the train with you. You'll have to leave it here."

Septimus feigned hurt and put on the best puppy dog face he could manage. "B-but my grandpa gave that to me. It's my most favorite present! If I put it in my bag will it be okay? I promise I won't touch it until I get home." To Septimus own amazement he actually had tears running down his own cheeks. "Please, mister? Please?"

The man looked unsure for a moment and the crowd at the security checkpoint seemed to be getting impatient. He bent down to eye level. "Alright, we'll put the knife in your bag. It'll be in there the whole trip in the luggage car. Is that okay?"

Septimus nodded and wiped away the tears. He put on his best smile.

"Okay." The man took the knife and slipped it into a pocket of the duffel bag that had come through the scanner. Meanwhile, Septimus grabbed all of his belongings from the tray and returned them to his pockets.

After attaching a sorting tag to the duffel back, the guard walked back over. "Okay, Alex," he said as he handed back Septimus' ID and ticket. "Here's your ticket and ID. Just show them to the person at the gate and have a safe trip."

Septimus continued smiling as he walked off. "Thanks, mister!" He even gave the man a small wave.

A few minutes later Septimus was at his gate. Even though things had not gone exactly to plan, it had all worked out so far. Hopefully that trend would continue.

At 0920 hrs a train pulled up to the gate and began unloading its passengers. Septimus presented his ticket to the hostess at the gate and stepped out onto the platform. The train seemed to be made for speed. It was very sleek with little external clutter and a slick silver and red paint job. There were only four cars present, and Septimus figured it was because there were not many people taking the trip. Either way, he walked to the second to last car. At the rear he could see the luggage being loaded into its own car.

Once he had taken his seat he picked up a small magazine from the pocket on the seat in front of him. A quick glance showed that it contained some basic information on the area. He decided to hang on to the reading material for later; it might come in handy.

The doors shut and the train began to accelerate. It went up a slight rise before leveling off and picking up more speed. Buildings whipped by at blinding speed becoming no more than a blur, until they were replaced by a plain of snow.

Septimus relaxed and leaned his seat back. He set the timer on his watch to wake him up in four hours. That would give him about two hours before the train was scheduled to arrive in Vancouver. He closed his eyes and let sweet sleep take him.

* * *

He pressed the button on his watch and the alarm stopped. 1330 hrs. With a yawn he pulled the plastic bag and a piece of paper from his pocket. After studying the directions thoroughly he began tinkering with the small components.

In between constructing his device and reviewing the directions, he glanced out of the window. In the distance he could just make out a dark line discoloring the ever thinning snow. Continuing to work, he made sure to keep an eye on the time. After forty five minutes he was finished. In his lap he held the solution to getting off the train.

Leaning around the seat, he observed the rest of the cabin. There were a few people further up. Some were sleeping, while others were reading newspapers or magazines. The key: no one was paying him any attention.

Satisfied, he discreetly got up and walked to the rear of the compartment and stepped into the bathroom. He took this moment to relieve himself, refill his water bottle from the sink, and to throw away the used wrapper.

Upon completion of his business, he quietly opened the bathroom door and stepped out. The other passengers did not even look up. Luckily the stewardess' workroom was at the front. He stepped up to the rear door and examined the locking mechanism. It had a card receiver and a number pad in case an employee lost their card. He inserted his device into the lock's card receiver slot. Within a few seconds a small blue light flashed, indicating that the lock was now open. Military grade technology had its benefits. He pulled out his lock pick, grasped the handle, and slipped through.

On the other side of the door was a small tunnel connecting the two train cars. A dull roar could be heard from the other side of the walls. Septimus was not sure what the outer material was made of, but it looked like millions of chain links were strung together to give both strength and flexibility. He guessed that the tunnel itself was to reduce wind resistance on the train as a whole so that it could reach its maximum speed.

Making sure to keep a firm grip on the handrails, he stepped across a small bridge and picked the next door lock. On the other side rows upon rows of suitcases and other material were stacked neatly on silvery, metal pipe shelves while being held down with thick bungee cords. Within a few minutes he had located his own bag and removed it.

He unzipped the main pocket and pulled out a large, flat piece of fiberglass. One end was pointed like that of a surfboard and curved slightly upwards. The other end was hollow. He reached into the hole, grabbed a small indentation, and pulled. Several consecutively smaller sections of board extended from inside the outer piece until he had a complete length of about five feet.

He set the board down and retrieved several other items from the bag; a pair of tinted goggles, some thick gloves; and another ski mask. When all the gear had been put on, he transferred everything from his pockets, except the lock pick, to the duffel bag.

After opening the rear door, he placed the lock pick in the the bag. He cringed as the roar of the wind threatened to deafen him. The rear of the train had a small railed walkway. The only opening was directly in front of the door, so Septimus wisely decided to move to the side.

Looking over the edge he could see the snow rushing by. Every now and then he spotted a patch of grass, but in an instant it was gone, vanishing behind the train in the blink of an eye. Off to the left, the dark line still marred the white plain. He looked down and suddenly had a sickening feeling in his stomach. Maybe this was not such a good idea after all. The ground was a good ten feet down, rushing past in a blur of white.

Septimus gulped and tried to calm down and force the feeling from his gut. It worked a little, but he could not shake the uneasiness from his mind. What he was about to attempt was so dangerous that no sane person would have ever even considered doing it. If he messed up he was dead, no questions asked. Did that make him a little insane? It must, because he steeled himself to go through with it.

As small as he was, Septimus could fit his arms through the hand holds of the duffel bag and wear it like a backpack. He shrugged the bag into position and grabbed the board.

Looking over the rear railing, he could see the tracks that the train was running on. On either side only one column held up that half of the track. In the middle was nothing but air. He briefly considered this option, but then decided that becoming paste on one of the support columns did not seem very pleasant.

Over the side rail there was nothing but the expanse of snow. Thankfully it was free of hazardous obstacles. It seemed the only logical solution.

With one arm gripping the board, he took hold of a small hand grip that was on the wall and hauled himself up onto the railing. The sudden onslaught of wind nearly caused him to fall. He managed to regain his balance and closed his eyes. The feeling in his stomach had returned tenfold and his whole body seemed to be shaking.

He jumped.

* * *

_Alright, Ch.3 is finally up. Apologies for the delay (although I did warn you), I had football camp and school started a few weeks ago. Bummer, I know. I feel the pain of all you other students out there. I had the first third of this chapter finished for the longest time before I was finally able to finish it this week. Hopefully chapter four will come out quicker than this one did._

_I also just noticed that whatever system uses for the document, it messes with the spacing a little. Hmm._

_Reviews are appreciated. Questions? I'll see if I can answer them without spoilers. :p_


	5. 4 Long Way Down

_A/N: Remember, dates are important. As are times. You wouldn't celebrate New Years on January 2nd would you? Keep this in mind as you read._

* * *

_**Long Way Down**_

**1425 Hours, November 18, 2516 (Military Calendar) / Sol System, Earth**

The Colonel sat smoldering in a private office. Heads were going to roll. Yes, they certainly were. He could not exactly blame the good doctor for this grievous breach in security, but nevertheless, he would let him know exactly what was on his mind.

He lifted the paper report on his desk and read it for the tenth time. Like many operatives, he liked hard copies of material instead of software on computers. They were easily destroyed when needed and could not be manipulated or recovered after the fact.

The camera lens in the boy's room had been spray painted black. Since the lights were already off and the room was pitch black, the monitor operator had not seen the actual event and was never the wiser. The grate covering the ventilation shaft above the bed was removed, and another grate in the main floor hallway showed signs of having been kicked out and hastily replaced. Video imaging in that area during the night showed nothing out of the ordinary. Cameras placed on the perimeter fences turned up negative. Investigations of guard personnel revealed nothing. The only entry and exit recorded for the night was the supply truck in the middle of the night.

He angrily crumpled the paper and threw it against the far wall with a yell. He would be damned if he let everything he had worked for be destroyed by this incident. Contingency plans and explanations flashed through his head like lightning. It would not be easy, but he knew he could survive this. Worse had happened before, but the stakes were so much higher in this situation. Thankfully, enough had been achieved so far that they could move to the next phase without too many problems.

He picked up the manila folder still resting on the desk. There was a picture of the boy, dressed in all white, looking up at the camera. The time stamp at the bottom of the image indicated that it had been taken earlier that morning at a place called Pioneer Station. He was unfamiliar with the name, but guessed that it was in the nearest city. Another series of images showed the boy boarding one of the maglev trains. One of the papers held information about the truck driver. The last document contained a dossier of a female cook that worked at the facility.

Just as he was about to throw the whole desk, the holo panel in the corner of the room suddenly lit up with a hum. The ghostly outline of a white, upright, anthropomorphic dragon could barely be seen through a cloud of holographic smoke. While most of the body was almost completely blended with the smoke, its eyes glowed bright blue through the haze.

The Colonel sat back down and readjusted his green uniform. He cleared his throat, "What do you have, Tyrranos?" Agitation was clear in his voice.

The AI's eyes glowed brighter for a second before it answered in a gravely voice, "The truck driver, one John Brennan, has been apprehended and interrogated. He knows nothing. Appropriate cleansing procedures are underway. However, the remains of a climbing cable were found attached to the bottom of the truck trailer. It would seem Z-298 used a climbing harness to secure himself to the undercarriage of the trailer. As you have seen, image processing identified the target boarding a maglev train heading to Vancouver. Agents are already en route and will arrive shortly. Local authorities have been alerted and full cooperation has been assured. Probability of recovery without further incident estimated at 98.2."

The Colonel wiped the sweat off his brow with his sleeve. "Good work, Tyrranos. Now, I want all personnel on this base interviewed extensively. Then I want background checks on all of them, and then background checks on anyone they know. Family, acquaintances, business partners, everything. No one enters or leaves here until I say so. You find anything, and I mean anything, that might be the least bit suspicious, you notify me immediately. Call in my men from Sydney. They'll get the job done right." He glanced back at the dossier of the cook. "What about the woman's autopsy report?"

The AI's voice was flat and devoid of emotion. "Suicide. Cyanide capsules."

The Colonel sneered, "Damn bitch. Smart though. Can't scan the brain now " He held up the dossier. "I want everything else about this woman on my desk in ten minutes. Where she was born, where she went to school, who she knew. In the meantime, get all the other cooks and anyone else who may have had close contact with her into interrogation immediately. Have all family and any other contacts rounded up and questioned."

"Yes, sir. What would you have me do after the questioning is finished?"

The man's eyes grew dark as he stood up to leave. "Liquidate them."

* * *

**1434 Hours, November 18, 2516 (Military Calendar) / Sol System, Earth**

"ARGH!!" Septimus yelled as the board instantly caught air, rapidly decelerated, smashed into his face, and began bucking uncontrollably.

It took all his strength to keep from losing the board. He hugged it tighter while wrapping his legs around. Glimpses of the white snow and the blue sky blended together as the board continued to buffet wildly. What had he been thinking? Now he was definitely going to die. A vision of him hitting the ground at over three hundred miles per hour popped up in his head. His bones disintegrate and everything else would be crushed into pulp.

Gravity seemed to start working again, and Septimus could feel himself begin to plummet. The board seemed to stabilize momentarily, so he leaned forward to try and point towards the ground, but the air resistance instantly caught him and flipped the front downward. Instinctively, Septimus gritted his teeth and rolled with the board. The ground rushed up to greet him as he completed the impromptu front flip.

Just in time, Septimus released his legs and laid them on the board while he slid his hands to the underside of the board's front curve. Board met snow with a bone jarring impact, and Septimus gasped as the air rushed from his lungs from being squashed in between the board and the heavy duffel bag. With eyes watering, he held on for dear life as the board bounced and tried to catch more air underneath the front. Struggling to maintain control, he leaned forward again, forcing the front end back down.

He could feel the bag on his back begin to shift to the side, threatening to roll him over. He quickly put both his feet out either side to keep stability. His chest was burning, but he forced himself to press his feet as far into the snow as he could. Instantly, the new source of drag tried to pull him off the still speeding board. All he could do was hang on.

Thirty seconds and several miles later, Septimus slowed to a halt.

He rolled to his side to regain his breath. After a few minutes later he shrugged out of the duffel bag and shakily got to his feet. His knees and hands were trembling badly. Though his brain was still wired from the adrenalin pumping through his body, his legs felt frozen in place. The butterflies in his stomach were trying to start a hurricane. He took a step forward, but his strength instantly left him. His knees buckled, and he roughly sat straight down.

What was wrong with him? Why was he not able to walk? He suddenly came to a realization. He was scared, maybe even terrified. He had never been in a life threatening situation before yesterday. He could have been killed. He could be **dead**.

At that last thought his whole body started shaking. He hugged his knees to his chest and took a deep breath, slowly rocking back and forth. He just needed to calm down; just get his head together and focus. Another deep breath. Focus. He was not hurt, he was not dead. He tried clenching all his muscles to stop the shaking. It helped a little.

After a few minutes, he managed to get control of the shaking. Septimus slowly got to his feet and walked back to his equipment. His legs felt weak and the butterflies in his stomach were still roaming, but at least the shaking was gone. The lingering anxiety in the back of his mind threatened to leak out and take over again, but he forced it away. Panicking would get him nowhere. Taking another deep breath, he pulled a short length of rope from the duffel bag and looped it through a hole in the front of the fiberglass board. With the bag loaded onto the board, he began trudging to the east.

* * *

**1600 Hours, November 18, 2516 (Military Calendar) / Sol System, Earth**

"What do you mean he's gone! I thought you said we'd get him! Just what the fuck is going on here?!" Now the Colonel did heave the desk across the room.

Blue fire seeped from Tyrannos' eyes. "Uncertain. The entire train station in Vancouver is under full surveillance, and a full search is still underway. It would seem that I was mistaken. That he managed to slip by our defenses here is evidence of his capability. Taking into account that Vancouver Station is in the middle of the city, and that it is nearly sunset, we may have to prepare for the possibility that he is able to get past our men and disappear deeper into the city."

The Colonel interrupted, "And that would actually be better wouldn't it? With all the cameras everywhere nowadays, we should be able to spot him and pick him up at our own leisure without causing any more fuss."

"Affirmative. Should I extract our men from the station?"

"Do it. There's plenty of ways to get lost in the back areas where there aren't any cams, and we need to avoid any conspicuous actions in the public, like shutting down a whole train station. That wouldn't go over well with my superiors. Order the men to hold back while you keep an eye on the camera grid. He's got to show up sometime."

* * *

**1613 Hours, November 18, 2516 (Military Calendar) / Sol System, Earth**

Septimus looked over the plain to the West as the last vestiges of light disappeared under the horizon. He shivered. The temperature was already beginning to drop.

He slowly turned and began trudging south again, following the pipeline over his head. It had not been hard to find; it was only a few miles from the train tracks. Now all he had to do was follow it South until he found civilization. It would take a while on foot, but that was all part of the plan. Hopefully, by the time he got anywhere, they would be well off his trail, and he would be able to move easier.

Even though the pipe was only about five feet off the ground, he had plenty of head room to walk under it without bending over. After all, he had just turned five years old and was just under four feet. He would have kept walking under it the whole time if it were not for the supports. There was one directly under each section of pipe. So instead of walking around them every ten feet, he kept slightly to the side. While the sun had been up, he had made sure to keep on the left side under the pipe's shadow. He knew a little about satellites from his short education, so he thought it best to not be spotted on the off chance that they decided to use them. All in all, Septimus thought it was a pretty good plan.

A few minutes later he came across a broken section of pipe. He had seen these before, and since it was as wide as he was tall, he decided that when he camped for the night, he would climb in and use one for shelter. For now though, he needed to put more distance between himself and where he had initially jumped from the train. He shivered again, only this time from the memory of the jump.

As he continued dragging the board through the darkness, one thought crossed his mind. He had definitely had more than enough excitement for one day.

* * *

**0200 Hours, December 3, 2516 (Military Calendar) / Sol System, Earth**

Tyrannos' logic programming was at a loss. All relevant data contradicted the actual reality of the situation. The statistical probability of such an outcome was so low it was ludicrous. His holographic eyes burst brilliant blue flames while the audio system emitted a small crackle, seemingly mirroring his internal annoyance.

The man sitting at the desk looked up at the disturbance. Dark rings surrounded his weary eyes. With a sigh, he shrugged off his wrinkled jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. "Call off the search," he whispered as he laid his head back down.

A normal human may have had trouble hearing it, but Tyrranos' "ears," connected to the rooms audio systems, picked up the Colonel's words perfectly.

"Complying."

He could understand the man's reasoning, but as of yet, he was unwilling to give up. He temporarily redirected all available processing power to focus solely on the search. Within milliseconds he had hacked into the UNSC database, searched through the entire camera network of both American continents, and examined thousands of aerial photographs and images from orbiting satellites. Zero confirmations; the boy was a ghost.

Closing his artificial eyes, the AI resumed normal operations as well as sending out orders to all involved personnel to cease and desist immediately. However, Tyrannos was still not satisfied. Such a statistical improbability could not last forever. Granted, the boy had not made a mistake yet, but it had to happen sometime. Even covering his face and hair would not work so long as a camera got a good look at his eyes. A quick retinal comparison later and they would be all over him.

No, Tyrannos would not give up so easily. His prerogative was to assist his masters in all areas possible. While his human allies could only focus on a limited number of things at a time, he existed in the realm of computer software, with nearly infinite capabilities. He could be a hundred different places in the blink of an eye. He did not need to eat or sleep.

But even though his limits were far beyond that of a human, there were still limits. His runtime memory could only handle so much strain at a time without slowing down system performance and efficiency; and currently, he was very busy with Operation Genesis.

So instead of taking the burden on himself, he decided to let someone else do it for him; or perhaps more accurately, something else. He quickly hacked back into the camera network subsystem and linked it with the visual identification database. A microsecond later he had written a program that would automatically monitor the system for him and report anything that came up, all while clandestinely using the government's runtime memory instead of his own. An indefinite period of time could pass before such an event happened, but he would know about it in seconds.

The Colonel was right, the boy had to show up sometime. Probability demanded it.

In the meantime, the lab would begin the next phase. After all, the boy was only the first in what was hoped to be a long line of perfection. Some tweaking remained, but with his DNA as a base, (which they knew was successful, if less than completely optimal) progress should be much smoother.

Tyrranos synced himself with the lab's supercomputer. Compared to him, the lab computer was stupid. It had no intelligence to speak of, rather, it was only made for crunching huge mathematical formulas. But what the machine lacked in brains, it more than made up for with brawn. The AI could barely keep up with the speed at which the computer was processing.

He copied one of the strings and examined it. It had all the basics for a human, with many modifications made to increase speed, strength, reaction time, mental capacity, and a hundred other things. Tyrranos understood biology and genetics, but he could still not be certain if this particular genome would make a viable embryo. His own understanding of the complexity of life was based off the understanding of his creators, and hence, limited. This irritated him somewhat, but there was nothing he could do about it, so he let it be.

He did a few diagnostic checks and, satisfied that the computer was running well within operational parameters, withdrew from the system to take care of other matters.

* * *

**2200 Hours, December 7, 2516 (Military Calendar) / Sol System, Earth**

Septimus collapsed in the snow, exhausted. Twenty days. He could not imagine being any more tired than he was now. Twenty days of marching and dragging that stupid board and bag; following that damned pipe. He had to be close. He just had to be. About two miles per hour, ten hours a day, for twenty days. How could he not be close? His brain was too weary to recalculate the distance.

Septimus picked himself up and half walked, half stumbled through another mile of darkness until he found a collapsed section of pipe. With a grunt of effort, he managed to haul himself in, not even bothering to bring his supplies.

He slipped his last protein bar from a jacket pocket and began munching on it, knowing that it would do nothing to curb his painful hunger. He had better be getting close. Otherwise he was going to starve to death, unless he died from infection first. He gingerly pushed up the bloody sleeve on his left arm and ran his hand over the bite marks. A jagged row of puncture wounds lined the top and bottom of his forearm. They were still badly inflamed and swollen, itching and burning at his touch. With this in mind he downed one of his few remaining antibiotic pills and smeared some antibiotic ointment on the wounds.

He curled into a ball, trying to conserve body heat. If there was anything he missed, it was a good, old fashioned bed and pillow. For now, he would just have to do with cold concrete.

* * *

_Well, that's the end of Ch.4. Hope you enjoyed it. I know that I have kept you in the dark so far, but hold on to your hats. Answers are coming. Also, at some point I will put up a rough outline of events on my page so if people forget what happened they can check up on it. Reviews are appreciated. Until next time..._


	6. 5 Somewhere to Belong

_**Ch.5: Somewhere to Belong**_

**1500 Hours, December 20, 2516 (Military Calendar) / Sol System, Earth**

Septimus lay with his legs hanging off the side of the dock, lazily watching the clouds above and listening to the shrill cry of nearby gulls. Even though the temperature was just above freezing, it was a clear day with a bright blue sky. He had never really gotten a chance to appreciate that back at his former residence. Most of his time had been spent underground, and whenever he had gone outside he simply did not have the time to look around.

Snuggled in a new heavy blue parka and two pairs of thick black sweatpants, the cold did not bother him much. His bare hands, which had been providing a resting place for the back of his head, were getting a little chilly though, so he moved them to the jacket pockets and rested his ski cap covered head on the old wood. Truly, this was the most relaxed he had been in over a year, maybe in his whole life. He let out a contented sigh and closed his eyes, letting his thoughts drift back over the past month.

First, there was escaping the base and the ride under the truck trailer. After that was the train jump. He mentally cringed. That was something he would never do again. After that he had had to follow the pipeline. And then...the wolves.

It had been after almost two weeks of walking before he had seen them. At first they had been preoccupied hunting a herd of caribou. He had tried to stay out of sight and keep moving since the herd was a little ways off from the pipe, but apparently one of them had smelled him. Not that he could help it, he had not bathed in over a fortnight. The wolf that had spotted Septimus let out a howl, and the other wolves quickly broke off from the herd and headed his way.

Panicking, Septimus had thrown his gear into a nearby open section of pipe and hauled himself in just as the first wolf latched its powerful jaws around his left forearm. He had screamed. The pain was even worse than when he had realigned his finger after it had been stepped on. The wolf gave a jerk that nearly pulled him back out and into the jaws of its waiting pack mates. Reacting on instinct, he had drawn his knife and wildly swung it at the beast. The wolf let go, falling from the lip of the pipe and howling at the bloody scar across its snout. Another one jumped in but quickly retreated when Septimus slashed it on the leg.

Septimus waisted no time and had beat a hasty retreat deeper into the pipe. He could still hear the wolves barking and growling at the entrance, but no more had tried to enter. After nearly an hour of tense waiting the wolves had moved off. Not wanting to risk another attack, Septimus had elected to continue his journey through the pipe itself. Only afterwards, days later, did Septimus realize that what had really saved him was climbing into the pipe. By preventing himself from being surrounded and leaving only one way to get to him, he had negated the wolves' pack hunting strategy. It was pure luck and he knew it.

It was not until later that afternoon, when he had finally come to another opening, that he saw the significant damage of the wound. Blood soaked what was left of the sleeve, while ragged bits of it were pressed into the shredded skin. He had learned a little about preventing infection during basic survival lectures, so he knew he had to clean the wound and take antibiotics. Determined to live, he had swallowed some pain killers and spent the better part of an hour using a pair of tweezers to pull out all the infused jacket fibers. It hurt like hell to stick the tweezers _into_ the holes in his arm to get all the pieces out, but the consequence of death drove him on.

Thankfully, he never saw the wolves again and followed the pipe without further incident. Sometimes he had nightmares about the encounter, but he tried to not let it bother him. The wounds were still slightly ragged and scabbed over, but at least major infection had been prevented. They would scar over eventually.

After that he had found an abandoned cabin. The only thing he could salvage was a rusty old bicycle with pink streamers. It was a little big, but after adjusting the seat, his feet could reach the pedals. What seemed to be a simple task from what he had seen on videos, soon became an ordeal all to itself. It took him three hours, twenty- three crashes, and innumerable bumps and bruises before he finally accomplished every child's dream: how to ride a bike.

Septimus smiled to himself as a cool breeze blew through his ski mask. Learning how to ride a bicycle was one of his first self taught accomplishments. He could not help but feel a small amount of pride well up in his chest. The rush of pure ecstasy when he had finally managed to not fall over was indescribable. He could not wait for the next time he could experience that same feeling.

He had followed the road from the cabin to a nearby town. The first thing he did was to step into a small diner and fill his stomach. Afterwards, while riding his bike east a large cargo truck had pulled up next to him. The driver offered him a ride. At first Septimus hesitated, but then he remembered Beatrice and how she had helped him. With his concern left to the wind, he climbed in.

She said she was going to a place called Detroit. Septimus did not know anything about the place, so he decided he might as well go there. The woman was pleasant, and he let her carry most of the conversation. No doubt she was starved for someone to talk to, and he was more than happy to oblige. He figured since the nature of her job carried long hours on the road, she must get lonely. She chattered on about her family most of the time, but he did not really pay much attention to that. What really caught his interest was when he had gotten her to talk about where they were.

They were traveling just to the south of the former border of two countries that had been called Canada and The United States of America. The former was peaceful and commercial, while the latter had once been the hegemonic power of the entire planet, which at the time had consisted of all humanity. With the human race ever advancing and with ever increasing violence caused by global overpopulation, international cooperation became more important than ever. The world organization known as the United Nations was tasked with convincing humanity to see itself as a whole entity instead of separate nations fighting amongst themselves. Canada had been among the first to renounce its status as a nation and submit its authority to the newly created United Earth Government following the bloody Koslovic and Frieden movements. The purpose of the UEG was to break down barriers between countries and bring them together for the betterment of mankind. At first this was only a mere copy of the UN, with the heads of different countries making up the representatives of the organization. However, the UEG's goal was to eventually get its members to see themselves not as representatives of their individual states, but as members of a global community whose goal was to help improve the quality of life for everyone on Earth.

The USA had been one of the last countries to join the UEG. Having been the dominant power on Earth for over two hundred years since a conflict called the Second World War, it was naturally hesitant to give up its power to the multitude of enemies it had made over the centuries. In the end, the hope of peace and an end to the bloodshed won out, and the United States joined, officially creating the UEG in 2170. Since then humanity had lived in relative peace, eventually moving beyond the solar system after the development of faster than light travel.

Septimus had listened with wide eyes and rapt attention to these revelations. It was simply amazing to him. He had never been taught any of this, and it was at that moment that he realized that his knowledge of the world was extremely narrow. He was curious to learn more.

Surprisingly, they had made it to Detroit without the woman asking who he was or what he was doing. All Septimus could think was that she was a kind soul who just wanted to help someone out.

In the ensuing week and a half since his arrival, he had managed to keep a low profile. He spent his mornings collecting recyclables and turning them in for money, and the afternoons in the public library poring over old books. However, the library closed early on Sundays, so he could not go there today. He was not living the high life, there was no doubt about that, but he got along well enough. He made enough money recycling to get food and spent his nights sleeping in old buildings. Keeping on the move was a priority, so he made sure to never stay in the same place twice. All in all, everything was going relatively smoothly. He had even learned where he had come from, a place called Alaska, formerly of the United States. And now he was in Detroit, Michigan, another area that had been controlled by the USA.

Sometimes he ran into other homeless people on the streets or in the buildings at night, but they did not pay him much attention. They always seemed to have a defeated look in their eyes, like they had accepted their pitiful lot in life. Huddling around a fire barrels in back alleys was where they congregated the most, trying to warm themselves with their own body heat as well as the flames. Septimus could almost see himself in the same position years from now, decrepit and beaten down by the harshness of life. Instead of discouraging him though, it actually helped him to steel his resolve. He would not allow himself to fall so low.

Another breeze blew by, gently ruffling his cloths and duffel bag. He would need to get going soon so he could find a good place to set up for the night. The good thing about this city was that it was so huge and so old, there were plenty of buildings in the old areas that were no longer being used. The city had never bothered to spend the money to have them demolished to make room for other, newer structures. Such practices were partially to blame for the ridiculous amount of sprawl the city had experienced through the centuries. Detroit itself was only a part of a huge conglomerate of cities that had steadily grown and merged over the years in the American mid-west.

Septimus sighed, no sense in wasting any more time. Sitting up, he glanced at his watch. It was already 1630, and the sun was beginning to set behind him. He suddenly heard a creak of wood behind him.

"Hello," someone said.

Startled out of his wits, Septimus tipped over the edge of the dock. He let out a small cry, but it was cut off as his head disappeared beneath the frigid surface of the water.

A few seconds later he surfaced, sputtering and gasping for air. The water was freezing! It felt like the breath was being sucked from his lungs. Thank goodness he had learned to swim before leaving the base. Without a second thought he began swimming as fast as he could toward shore. Progress was slower than he would have liked since the wet, heavy clothes were weighing him down.

"What did you do that for?" the voice giggled. "Now you're all wet."

Septimus stole a glance over to the dock. There was a young girl keeping pace with him as he swam back to shore. He glared at her.

"Well your the one who snuck up and scared me," Septimus spat.

"I didn't mean to," the girl said. "I just wanted to say hi. My name's Sira. What's your name?"

The boy climbed the ladder on the wharf wall, only to find the girl beaming right next to him.

She was a few inches shorter than him with shoulder length brown hair and blond streaks. She wore a red shirt and a pair of blue overalls with white shoes. But what really caught his attention were her eyes. They were a deep violet, like the sunset. He was drawn to them for a moment before he roughly regained his composure.

"None of your business," he grunted, turning and walking back down the dock to retrieve his gear. He noticed that the girl was still following him. Stooping to pick up his bag, he placed his blue reflective shades over his eyes. "Look, Sira was it? What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?"

"What's your name?" she asked again.

Septimus swung the bag over his shoulder and started walking in the direction of the city. "If I tell you my name will you go away?"

She grinned mischievously. "Maybe..."

He rolled his eyes. "Ugh, whatever. My name's Septimus."

"Septimus?" she mimicked. "That's a funny name."

"Yeah? Well what kind of name is Sira anyway? And why are you bothering me?" Septimus quickened his pace.

Sira seemed unfazed and kept stride with him. "That's my mommy's name. Daddy named me after her."

"Then go home to your mommy and daddy and leave me alone," he growled impatiently.

"Mommy and Daddy aren't here anymore. They went to heaven."

"And where's that?" Septimus replied. He was really getting annoyed now.

"That's where all the good people go when they die," Sira sniffled behind him.

Septimus stopped so abruptly that Sira bumped into him. He turned around and looked at her. She was staring downward with her hands clasped behind her back, toeing the gravel. He immediately felt pity for her.

"So you don't have any parents?" he asked.

"No."

"Me neither," he confessed.

"Really?"

"Uh, huh. I never knew them."

"Mommy and Daddy died when I was really little," she explained. "I can't remember them, but Kaleb can."

"Who's Kaleb?" Septimus asked, trying to change the uncomfortable subject.

Sira's face brightened up instantly as she spoke. "Kaleb's my big brother! He takes care of me and he takes care of all the rest of our family." Her face seemed to shine even more as she reached out and grabbed his shoulders. "Hey, I know! Since you don't have a mommy or daddy, you can come live with us!" she exclaimed. "You can be a part of our family!"

Septimus was taken aback, not knowing what to say. He struggled for words, but Sira cut him off.

"C'mon! Whaddya say? I know you'll like it in our family. You'll make lots of friends," she pleaded.

He gently pushed her hands off and took a step back. "I don't know," he said. "I kind of work better alone." How could he trust this girl? He hadn't even known her for five minutes. This was absurd. They would only slow him down. He would end up getting caught again.

Septimus turned and continued walking. "I think I'll be going now. It was nice to have met y—"

He was suddenly stopped as another hand grasped his own. It was warm on his icy skin and soft to the touch. He turned again to find Sira clinging onto him and looking him straight in the eye.

"Please," she whispered. "I just want to be your friend. At least let me help you. You're going to freeze to death if you don't get somewhere warm." As if bidden by her words a strong gust washed over them, taking away whatever warmth he had left, causing him to shiver and his teeth to begin chattering.

Septimus could not move, could not take his eyes from hers. Something stirred deep within him, something new, something he had never truly experienced before. He could see it in her eyes. What was it? Sincerity? Trust?

"I..." he stammered. "I..."

"Please," she repeated.

"Okay," he found himself saying. "I'll go with you."

Her face flashed a smile and she threw herself at him in glee, embracing him in a fierce hug. "Thank you! I'm so happy!" she squealed.

Not knowing the correct action to take and feeling slightly foolish, Septimus gently wrapped his arms around her, feeling her body warming his own. He still could not comprehend what had just happened. Something inside him had overwhelmed his force of reason and agreed to this girl's offer. What the hell was he thinking? Was he that desperate for companionship?

She pulled away from him and took him by the hand. "Follow me. It's not to far back to our place."

Septimus wordlessly let the girl lead him through the streets as she giggled and told him about all the fun they were going to have together. But he wasn't paying attention. All he could think about was that moment when their eyes met, when she seemed to be looking inside of him.

Ten minutes later, as the sun disappeared behind the skyscrapers, they made their way into a large, old looking apartment complex. Septimus was grateful for the newfound heat and slipped his cap and mask off as well as putting his glasses into his pocket. After four flights of stairs, they arrived at her apartment. She knocked, and a few seconds later the door opened with a creak.

On the other side stood a tall boy with black hair and eyes. He was much older than the two children in the hall, towering over them in a set of gray coveralls. The stern look on his face vanished when he saw Sira. She let go of Septimus' hand and embraced the larger boy's waist, causing him to chuckle as he ruffled her hair affectionately.

"Kaleb, look who I found," she exclaimed. "His name is Septimus."

"Is that right?" Kaleb said. He released Sira and scrutinized Septimus. "Seems like a weird name to me, but who am I to judge?" He shrugged. "How old are you kid?"

"Almost six," Septimus lied.

"Really?" Kaleb replied skeptically. Then he raised an eyebrow. "Wait, why are you all wet?"

Septimus looked at Sira as her face burned with embarrassment. She tugged on Kaleb's sleeve. "Well," she started, "he was sitting on the edge of the pier and I kinda accidentally scared him. He fell in the water."

Kaleb looked from Sira to Septimus, then back again, before he burst out laughing. He grabbed his knees as tears came to his eyes. Septimus saw Sira's face become even redder, and he could not stop a smirk.

Kaleb managed to get himself under control and put a hand on Septimus' shoulder. "Come on in, Sep'," he said. "We'll get you some dry clothes."

The older boy led them into a large common room with a couch and television on the far side. Dark blue carpet with light blue wallpaper covered the room. Off to the side was a small, tiled kitchenette area with a bar and a few stools. Several other children and another older looking girl walked out from several doors connecting to the room.

The older girl, who had bright red hair, green eyes, and was dressed in a blue housecoat, was the first to speak up. "Kaleb, what's going on?" Kaleb instantly went into hysterics again. "And what is so darn funny?"

In between gasps and laughter Kaleb managed to speak. "Y-You'll have to get Sira to tell you about it later." The young girls face returned to its previous shade of red. "Anyway, could you get some dry clothes for Septimus here? He's all wet."

The redhead looked confused but complied, going into an adjacent room and returning with a matching set of black sweats and a pair of socks. She pointed him into the bathroom and shut the door.

The inside of the bathroom was spartan at best. There was a small bathtub with a shower, a toilet, and a sink with a mirrored cabinet. He could hear voices murmuring on the other side of the door, but he could not discern what they were saying. After slipping out of his freezing clothes, he put on the ones provided for him. The pants were a little long so he rolled up the bottoms to get them out from under his feet. The sweatshirt was also over sized, but he let it be, welcoming the sleeves covering his cold hands. He was also pleasantly surprised to find that it also had a hood and a large pouch in the front for his hands. His socks almost slipped on the yellow tiled floor, but he managed to grab the sink, regaining his balance before he cracked his head on the edge of the tub. Not knowing what else to do, he left his wet clothing and bag on the floor and opened the door.

The voices instantly hushed, and seven pairs of eyes bore down on him. Had he not already experienced actually being a lab rat, he might have been disconcerted with so many people staring at him at once.

The redhead broke the silence, extending her hand as she spoke. "Hi, Septimus. My name's Alex." He accepted her hand but said nothing. She cast a wary glance at Kaleb but continued. "Well, we've decided to let you stay here for the night if you want. It's only right since it's so late and cold out. We'll get you back home tomorrow. What's your parent's phone number so we can call them to let them know your okay?"

Septimus saw Sira lower her eyes, but he ignored it. "I don't have any parents," he said flatly.

"Oh, I see," she nodded understandingly. Septimus thought it extremely odd that she did not react more negatively. Was it not strange for children to be without parents? Before he could do anything she spoke again. "So, are you from one of the orphanages? We could call them instead."

Thinking quickly about the implications of what Alex had just said, Septimus played along. "Yeah, but I ran away. I didn't like it there."

Kaleb interjected. "How long ago was that? Where have you been living?"

"On the streets," Septimus replied simply.

Everyone exchanged a few glances as Kaleb pulled Alex to the side where they began whispering.

In the meantime, Sira began introducing him to the other children. They were all older, but not nearly to the degree that Kaleb and Alex seemed to be.

Two twelve year old twin boys with tousled black hair and brown eyes called themselves Jacob and John. At first Septimus had no idea what was going on. How could two people look exactly alike? And how were you supposed to tell which was which? It just did not make sense. After an abbreviated explanation about the origin of twins, Septimus accepted the fact that looking exactly alike was possible, although he was still unsure of the whole thing. He mentally chalked it up as something he should look into the next time he was at the library.

Another boy named Matthew had blond hair and blue eyes. He was thirteen, but still a tad bit smaller than the twins.

Finally there was Summer, a tall fourteen year old girl with short, black hair and fiery red eyes. Septimus had never seen anyone with red eyes before. When he commented on this, she showed him that she was in fact wearing contact lenses. He was still confused, so they had to explain to him how not everyone was born with good eyes. Summer needed contacts to help her see better, and since nowadays they came in a variety of colors and designs, she had gotten red ones because she thought they looked cool.

Septimus was about to ask if they were all related, but Kaleb and Alex had finished their discussion and returned. Septimus mimicked the other children looking up at them expectantly.

"Looks like you're going to be staying with us for a while Septimus," Kaleb started. "We all know how bad the orphanages can be, but legally, we can't keep you here without informing the state. We'll see what we can do, but you may have to go back."

Septimus cursed under his breath. He should have known something like this would happen. As soon as they reported him to a representative of the state, he would be caught for sure. He would have to leave these people the first chance he got, otherwise things would take a turn for the worse. For now though, he had to feign innocence.

Letting out a theatrical sigh, he drooped his shoulders and lowered his head. "I understand."

He looked up as he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Alex.

"Hey, don't worry Septimus. Until then you can stay with us. Right guys?"

Everyone else nodded and gave him a warm smile. It almost pained him to think how disappointed they would be when he turned up missing, but he put on the best smile he could muster.

"Thanks. I appreciate it. At least I don't have to sleep in the cold tonight."

"Ha!" Kaleb laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "That's the spirit! C'mon, we're out of beds, so we'll set you up on the couch for the night. The rest of you better finish your homework. Don't forget, you've still got school till Wednesday, so go get back on it."

The mood in the room changed from warm to cold as the children all grumbled and trudged back to their respective rooms. Septimus noticed that the boys all went one way, while the younger girls filed into the room next door. Kaleb transformed the couch into a fold out bed while Alex took Septimus' wet clothes and put them in the washing machine in another small room. Their jobs completed, the young adults retired to their own room saying that they did not want to bother him, leaving Septimus alone in the den with only the sloshing of the washing machine to keep him company.

He flicked off the light switch and squirmed his way into the heavy blankets to warm his body back up. When he located the remote, he turned the television on. He had not done much tv watching back at the base, but he at least knew how to work the device. He quickly located the local news station and set the volume low so he would not disturb everyone else. His quest to learn more about the world could at least continue through this medium.

Lightly paying attention, he was more concerned about how he was going to get away. It seemed like the easiest way would be to simply leave in the middle of the night and disappear back into the labyrinth of the old city. These people were not exactly guarding the doors, so it should be simple enough.

By the time Alex walked through and moved his clothes to the dryer, he had already formulated his plan. The problem was simple, so the solution was simple. After changing back into his clothes once they were dry, he would clandestinely slip through the front door and never be heard from again. He set the alarm on his watch and settled down to continue watching the evening news. He was not very tired, but the warmth of the blankets soon had him dozing into a fitful slumber.

* * *

Septimus reacted instantly, squelching the alarm on his wrist. It was three in the morning. He noticed that someone had turned the television off. Quietly getting out of bed, he made his way to the laundry room and shut the door while flipping on the light. It was more like a closet inside, with the washer and dryer taking up most of the available space. Careful not to bang around, Septimus quickly changed his borrowed sweats for his normal clothes. He folded the black sweats and placed them on the dryer, figuring it was the least he could do as thanks.

After exiting the laundry room, he felt his way around the bed and over to the bathroom door. He really needed to pee, but he decided that relieving himself could wait, as the noise might wake someone up. Upon finding his bag on the floor, he stealthily moved along the wall towards the apartment door. Just as it was almost completely open, he heard one of the doors in the back of the den open and close.

"Hey, buddy."

Recognizing Kaleb's voice, Septimus turned and saw him step out of the shadows into the light from the hallway. He had been caught red handed.

"Leaving already?" the young man asked.

"I can't let you report me," Septimus said. "I appreciate your help, but I can't go back."

Kaleb seemed to consider this for a moment before he stepped past Septimus out into the hallway and sat down against the opposite wall. He patted the floor next to himself. "Shut the door and take a seat. Let's talk a little."

Septimus considered bolting, but decided against it. The older boy would easily run him down. He quietly shut the door, hearing it automatically lock, and sat down, staring at the floor.

The young man said nothing for a minute before finally breaking the tense silence. "I know that the orphanages aren't much fun, but besides that, why don't you want to go back? Is there something you're afraid of?"

As much as he did not want to reveal anything about himself, Septimus hated lying. He always felt dirty afterwards. Sometimes lying was absolutely necessary, but when he could get away with it, he preferred to stick with half truths and vague generalizations. He could tell, somewhere deep in his gut, that this person was conveying the same feelings of trust and sincerity that Sira had been the evening before. Betraying that trust put a bad taste in his mouth.

"There are people looking for me," he said.

"Bad people?"

Septimus nodded. He heard Kaleb exhale and lean back against the wall.

"So you're afraid that if you go back, these bad people will find you?"

The young boy nodded again. This time he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders. He stiffened a little at the contact and looked up to find Kaleb giving him a warm smile.

"Hey, little buddy, don't worry. Everything will turn out okay." Kaleb thumbed his own chest. "I used to live in an orphanage too."

Septimus was stunned. "Really?" he asked.

"Yeah," Kaleb replied, pointing at the apartment door. "We all did. When I was thirteen, my mom and dad were killed in a terrorist attack; their moms and dads too. All our parents used to be friends, and they all worked at the same place. After that, we all lived in an orphanage not far from here. When I turned eighteen and graduated from high school, I got a job at one of the auto plants. That was about a year ago, and I used the money to move me and Sira and everyone else to this apartment. I kind of felt responsible for them, you know? I was the oldest when the incident happened, so I did my best to keep everyone together. I knew Alex and her sister Summer since we were kids, when our parents were still alive, and the boys are their cousins. The orphanage is where I fell in love with 'Lex. We helped each other cope with the loss. Don't spill the secret, but I'm going to marry her someday." Septimus watched as Kaleb's eyes glazed over for a moment, remembering some precious memory.

"Anyway," he continued, "the orphanage let us move out because they still have so many kids left over from the attack. It's just to many for the system to handle, so when I asked them to let us go, they were more than happy to go along with it. Alex is still in school, but this is her last year. She works part time as a clerk at a trading firm called Traxus to help pay the bills. She's already got an academic scholarship to go to Detroit Municipal College. She wants to major in business."

He gave Septimus a friendly shake. "I guess what I'm trying to say, is that if you really want to go, I'll let you go. But if you want, I think I can work it out so you can stay here with us. Maybe I'm just a big softy who always falls for the tear jerker story and wants to help. That doesn't matter to me. What I care about is doing the right thing, and I don't think living on the streets is the right thing for you. That, and I don't think I could look at myself if I didn't at least try to do the right thing."

Letting go of Septimus, Kaleb stood up and unlocked the door, before turning and strolling down the hall towards the stairs. Without turning around he spoke over his shoulder. "I have to go to work now. Just remember, the choice is yours. You can go or stay, I won't stop you, but there's a warm bed inside and people who care about you." He waved as he turned the corner, disappearing from sight.

Septimus nearly choked with emotion. It took all his will to keep tears from escaping. He remembered how Beatrice had helped set up his escape; the woman who had given him a ride to Detroit; the man at the recycling plant who always gave him a smile and asked how he was doing; the librarian who had helped him find some books. And now here he was, sitting outside of the apartment of a man who was offering him a home, a _real_ home. Slowly, his view of the world as filled with callous and indifferent people was starting to change. Gone were the people who experimented on him, replaced by people who seemed to genuinely care for his well being. He could feel it again, that sense of trust. He had seen it in Kaleb's eyes, showing him that the man thought he was important. This feeling told him he could depend on the young man's word, that everything really would turn out okay, just as he had said.

He would have to be an idiot to leave now.

Sniffling, he wiped his nose across his sleeve and walked back into the apartment, taking the time to relieve his swollen bladder before jumping back in the bed. Still mulling over the recent turn of events, it seemed like forever before sleep finally claimed him.

* * *

_Woot. Ch. 5 is now up. I'm really proud, I managed to bang out this entire thing in two days. Not bad at all. Some big answers thrown in as well as other little tidbits sprinkled around. If you paid real close attention, there are a lot of really small hints all over the place in this chapter. It'd be really cool to see if anyone can guess what the hints are and what they may mean, but you gotta look close, otherwise you'll miss them._

_Reviews are appreciated, and wanted. So far there have been a total of six reviews. I've seen 400 word poems get more reviews than that! Not that there's anything wrong with a 400 word poem, I just want to see if anyone is even reading this. Traffic has been pretty low and basically people have only looked at the prologue and the first chapter. Is the story so bad that people just can't stand to read any further? Is anyone even reading this now? Let me know your thoughts and I'll answer your questions.  
_

_Until next time...  
_


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